Tricks and Truths
by Wild Dragon's breath
Summary: Tricking yourself into believing something doesn't mean it's real. Yagyuu hangs onto the speck of truth among the lies. Plainum pair


Still looking through story folders and finding interesting things, thought I'd share. Somehow I imagine Niou with all sorts of strange talents.  
The characters do not belong to me.

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The last notes seemed to linger in the room long after the violin had been set down. Yagyuu's eyes were still locked on the violin. It looked incredibly vulnerable just then, dark wood against the even darker surface of the table, set off by the pristine whiteness of the table cloth. It probably wouldn't have taken much to break the instrument. One well-aimed shot, hard enough, and there would be no more violin. No more playing.

He didn't have a ball, nor was he holding a racquet. Nevertheless, he knew very well that even if the situation had been different, he would not have crushed the violin. The mere thought seemed more absurd than anything. How could he destroy something that produced such lovely tunes? It was just as impossible as it would have been for him to destroy the hands, Yagyuu mused as he turned his glance to another point of interest, the lovely hands that had mere moments before charmed those notes out of the violin, the lovely hands that now lay clasped in their owner's lap in a manner far too demure to match the gaze directed at him.

"You play beautifully," he said, because it was polite and the merest truth besides, and he was the gentleman now wasn't he which meant he had a duty to admit that simple truth. "I'm quite impressed."

"You're far too kind," came the response, and he would have had to be an idiot not to hear the sarcasm in the smooth voice. "'m glad you liked it."

"I truly did rather enjoy listening to you play," Yagyuu said, adjusting his glasses a bit as he leant back in his chair. "Of course, I believe not just anyone will ever hear you play, which makes the experience all the more special." The other smiled, just briefly, it was really more of a smirk than anything, before talking closer to him. Yagyuu sensed as much as saw the other leaning down towards him before his glasses were gently taken from his face, leaving the world a blur in which the only thing in focus was the face right before his as the other crouched down.

"Oh, but you're the one that's truly special." He knew that smirk, he'd seen it so many times, it was the smirk of a trickster and it could never be trusted, be it on his own face or someone else's. It was just as deceitful as those soft tones of a Kansai accent, spoken with such a lovely voice, the voice that charmed and hypnotized and almost fooled him yet it didn't. It was the voice Niou used when trying to convince him to do something not fitting of his nature, the voice he employed himself when he truly wanted to get his way. The smirk of a trickster, the voice of a trickster, the lips of a trickster pressed upon his.

Fortunately he was one of the very few who could give back exactly the same amount of tricks.

Nothing was to be trusted, Yagyuu thought in a somewhat bitter manner even as he gave into the kiss, as for a trick the kiss sure was hot and that tongue was good for more things than just letting words sexily roll off it in soft Kansai tones, the hands that had played the violin now played him just as expertly as suddenly there were two of them in the chair, the other climbing into his lap. Nothing was to be trusted, no smiles no words no touches, it could all be a big cruel trick and the only way not to be hurt was to play another trick right back.

He couldn't read the other. He couldn't tell what was true and what wasn't, not anymore than, he was sure, the other could read him. Yagyuu knew very well the glasses the other wore were nothing but yet another trick, yet another part of the show that made up this man, this lazy genius whose true self was still unknown to everyone. The glasses were a trick, and thus everything else could be a trick, too.

Yagyuu knew just how big a part of a person could all be one big trick. He'd seen it first hand, the amount of masks you could put on, the amount of tricks you could pull without anyone ever knowing a thing. He knew all those tricks, yet it helped him none, because all he thus knew was that there were tricks the other was surely playing on him but he didn't know what was a trick and what was true. This man could not be read.

He wasn't quite arrogant enough to think those tricks were for him, that he was special enough to gain the only tricked smirks, the only trick of hands wandering under his shirt, lips closing over his. These tricks had surely been played again and again, on several people, and if there was anyone they had originally been designed to fool it was for a pair of blue eyes and an ego that tolerated no tricks to cast a shade upon his absolute brilliance. Yet now it was for him, now it was he who saw and heard and felt it all, all these tricks, none to be trusted, don't trust any of it or you'll get hurt. He allowed himself to be played, accepted the tricks yet believed none of them, he could feel good and still not be fooled into thinking there was any emotion behind these gestures, thinking he was special in any way.

He didn't listen to the words. The words were just another trick, as much of a trick to mislead, to hurt him as were the fine, long-fingered hands caressing him.

It would have been so easy, so very easy to break those fingers, those hands, one well-aimed ball and there would never be such lovely notes again, no deft fingers playing him as though he was but another instrument of solid wood and vibrating strings. Yet he wouldn't do that, he knew he wouldn't, he might destroy everything else but not those hands, not those lovely hands that had coaxed those lovely notes out of that that violin made of dark wood and dreams.

For while everything else could be just another trick, the music was real.


End file.
